Late Fragment
by TheRoseShadow21
Summary: "Ten years later, and the words still cannot be erased from the world's mind" Drabble-type oneshot.Potentially AU.


Ten years later, and the words still cannot be erased from the world's mind.

_WE EXIST. _

These were the words written on a piece of paper, held tightly in the hand of the one who died in that last explosion. The only death that occurred in all of Sphinx's attacks. And this Sphinx did not go gently into that good night. Instead, he let the other one leave him behind with two curious words in his hand-two words that would be picked apart and analysed and questioned in context of everything that would be revealed soon after.

_It is all over. We won't be coming back. But the truth will come out, no matter what you do. Because no matter what any of you might try to say, they_ were _deserving of love._

A few days later, Sphinx released one last video. Or at least that is what everyone thought. There was only one person in the video, wearing a mask as usual, which fit in with what the world knew had become of them.

Until it was realised that the person who spoke those three sentences was a girl. A girl. In all the other videos, there had never been a girl. Which could only mean one thing: there was a third Sphinx all along, working behind the scenes right until the end.

The identity of this girl was never discovered. In between clean-up operations, rescue missions, internal investigations and quiet resignations, the police did try, but she was never found. Along with the surviving 'main' Sphinx, she disappeared.

But they were not forgotten. Even now, ten years after the fact, people still talk about the spate of attacks in Tokyo that hot summer. They huddle together and wonder who Sphinx really were, who the girl was. They wonder what drew her to them.

And they mull over the words that they left behind.

_WE EXIST._

_It is all over. We won't be coming back. But the truth will come out, no matter what you do. Because no matter what any of you might try to say, they were deserving of love._

They are words that have been continuously broken down and analysed, even now. The first message a simple cry for attention, a battle cry. Last words. The second message a farewell, announcement and love letter all in one. Simple, really. Now that the truth has come out, it all seems so simple.

But they don't know about the other words left behind.

These words are in a notebook, tucked in between a worktable and a wall, in a flat that has been cleared of all other personal effects. A flat that has not been lived in for 10 years.

The notebook had initially been used as a makeshift photo album, with pictures from a disposable camera carefully pasted in, with borders of craft paper meticulously decorating each page. The people that feature in the pictures are young. Two boys and a girl. Some pictures only feature the boys, and a few are selfies with the girl and one of the boys. The occasional picture shows one of the three teenagers caught unawares, whether they are cooking, working at the computer or sleeping. All these pictures suggest a life of happiness. Mundane, but coveted.

Then, on the 6th page, there are words that bely the tranquil life shown in the pictures that came before.

_If you are reading this, we are either dead or out of the country. Either way, we have gone. And you won't find us. _

_It shouldn't have come to this. Even after properly becoming one of them, I still harboured a hope that once all of this was over, once they got the closure they needed, there would be a future for us. I think that they are deserving of it. I'm not a fool though. I know that terrorism is wrong. Hence the use of 'terror' in the term. I know that what they have been doing is wrong, that it isn't what normal people do. I don't approve of bombings, but we are far from normal. They are far from normal. As far as the world is concerned, they don't exist. They may as well be ghosts. But that isn't true. They walk and talk and think, they eat, sleep, and laugh. They too, have hopes and fears. They are human, just like us. They exist, just like us. And they saved me. They saved me countless times. _

_And I love them for it. So I will follow, and help to the best of my ability. This is what friends do. _

At this point, the handwriting changes, from a girly, curling font to neat, precise letters.

_TO OPEN THE DOOR AND BE MET WITH A 'WELCOME BACK' WAS NOT SOMETHING I THOUGHT I'D EVER TYPE OF THING IS FOR PEOPLE WHO SO I THOUGHT.I BEGAN THIS WANTHING TO EXPOSE THEM TO THE WORLD. I STILL WANT THAT, BUT NOW I AM ENDING THIS WITH A LONGING FOR SOMETHING ELSE._

Then, the handwriting changes again, uneven and jagged, spontaneous and wavering.

_sHE IS THE GIRL WITH ThE PaLE YELLoW VOICE AND A RESOLVE i DID NOT THINK i would FIND IN A GirL WHO HAD A LIFE lIKe THE ONE SHE HAD BefORE wE FOUND HER. sHE IS RARE, LIKE HeR VOICE. _

The handwriting continues to change from girly to precise to spontaneous as the voices of each person spill out onto the pages. The thoughts do not form a clear narrative, as the tone varies from anecdote to reflection, from poem to potential eulogy, but the common ground they all share is clear, their connection is there for any reader to see.

Eventually, the words end. As she is the one who began, it is the girl who writes these last words, who ties up all their words into one overarching purpose. The very last words are a plea, a plea for understanding, for not letting them fade. For everything they worked for to not go to waste. It seems as random and unconnected as the words above it, but it is clear what all of these words are meant to be.

A story.

This is the story of Sphinx-not the facts, dates or times, but the people. The feelings. The connections they yearned for, the bonds they forged. Things that cannot be measured, but are true anyway.

This is a story, these are their words, words that tell so much more than a battle cry or a farewell could ever do.

But these words haven't been found yet. Ten years later, and they are still secure in a notebook that was originally intended to be a photo album. They may never be found, but they have the potential to be found.

But even if their story, this story that is truer than the facts, is never found, it probably won't matter. Because the words that were found still play in the mind of the world. People still speculate about who the girl could have been, who the boys were. Everyone who has been touched by the attacks in one way or another wonder at what happened to the surviving Sphinx members. Authorities are more vigilant, and over a thousand 'abandoned children' have been rescued and given homes and families, and the institute who denied them these things has been, for all intents and purposes, destroyed. And although the world is still shaky, still unsure of itself after all this time, still scared, it endures. Lives begin, end and continue as much as they have done before.

Ten years later, and nobody knows what became of remaining boy and girl. But it wouldn't be too much of an assumption to believe that they got what they wanted from this life, even so.

**So…I am thinking that this is going to need a little explaining. So, although you can't really skip this note as it's at the end of the story, ignore if you so wish, as it will be a little bit long.:**

**Firstly, this has the potential to be AU. I have made quite a few assumptions on how things would end in the anime, which is what I used to help write this. However, I tried to make it somewhat ambiguous in places, so that it could potentially fit in with whatever happens next. **

**I was trying to do something different for this fandom , and so the POV isn't **_**really**_** a POV…unless you count making the world an omniscient-being-in-the-third-person a POV. I was going for something a little whimsical, dreamy and rather reflective/introspective with all this, so I am guessing this one-shot will end up being somewhat unsettling/confusing. I did try to be as true to the characters as I could within all that…I hope that worked out. **

**And finally, the title of the story refers to a poem of the same title by Raymond Carver. I have used it as the cover picture of this story, and it is my favourite poem. Hopefully you'll see the connection. **

**So, please do leave feedback. **


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